


Pair O' Righ Nyaffs

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Double Penetration, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, im so sorry, thanks wonston chortle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: There’d been two cocks in his arse and then there hadn’t.There’d been two men fucking him, then there were none.akacollins is a hoe and cant handle being neglected





	Pair O' Righ Nyaffs

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the heathens in the dunkirk groupchat
> 
> and also im very sorry for creating this 😂

There’d been two cocks in his arse and then there hadn’t.

There’d been two men fucking him, then there were none.

Going into this, Collins had expected to be tested to his absolute limits, to be filled until he forgets his own name, wedged between his two lovers and fucked into oblivion. Philippe groaning harsh, dirty French into his ear that Collins can neither understand, nor fully process- and Farrier, holding Collins like he does, like there’s nothing better in the world than seeing his fingerprints against the pale skin of the Scot’s hips, cursing into the back of his neck with the gravelly voice that always has Collin’s weak at the knee’s.

He’d achieved part of that, after Jesus knows how long of the steady drag of Farrier’s fingers in and out of him, curling and flexing until Collins can only gasp hotly into the crook of Philippe’s neck, the Frenchmen happy to settle for claiming the blond’s tongue for the time being. Even if the kiss isn’t so much a kiss as it is licking over each other’s mouths as their hips frantically rut against each other.

The second those fingers had stopped, Collins had been filled with an overwhelming sense of anticipation, his skin crawling in excitement where Philippe’s hands rest either side of his waist, lining them up. Collins always loved the look the dark-haired male wore when he was focused, the determined look in his eye, the furrow between his brows, lip caught between his teeth. The blond had been too busy staring, so at feeling Philippe finally slide in, Collins almost cried out in surprise, the pale man’s back snapping straight, hands gripping the other’s elbows.

Philippe was a lot compared to a few fingers- mind you, he wasn’t the biggest, in that respect, Farrier had him beat by a margin- and for a moment, Collins let his eyes slide shut, let himself relax around the welcomed intrusion. Philippe’s thumbs running comforting lines over his skin as he adjusted, Farrier pressed up against his back, cock pressing into one of the blond’s cheeks, breath hot against his shoulder blade. Collins couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he gave a nod, beckoning Farrier to try and split him, try and fill him to bursting, try to ruin him before Philippe could.

Farrier nearly had, the slide in had been slow and slightly uncomfortable, even with how slicked up the older male’s cock was, and Collins was sure he’d almost torn his lip to shreds biting down on it as hard as he had, but he was much too determined to call it quits. It had taken a moment longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually, Farrier too had bottomed out, and the three shared a moment of incredulity and relief before everything turned into chaos. Farrier’s hips started up and Philippe held onto Collins’ hips for dear life, a slightly surprised look on his face. The blond knew what he was thinking- for an older bloke, Farrier was still pretty lively (especially when he’s fucking his favourite Scotsman).

Collins’ back had given out at some point, the blond falling forward and resting his head against Philippe’s chest, letting Farrier get a good hold on him, one hand gripping his shoulder, and the other resting a top one of Philippe’s on Collins’ waist. Between the two cocks in him, upon each thrust, one would hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him, and before long, Collins could hardly recover between each (very welcomed) assault.

Though, from where he’d been sat on Philippe’s lap, face buried between his pecs, Collins’ had missed the staring match going down between the two other men, both trying to fuck harder into the blond than the other. It didn’t help that Farrier had a position advantage, further frustrating the dark-haired male under Collins, their eyes meeting in a stare loaded with weeks’ worth of jealousy and competitivity.

And then, just like that, Collins’ goal was being thrown out the window, the blond pushed aside, both male’s groaning in almost perfect unison as they slid free of the now very confused Collins. “Wha’ the bloody fuck?” he whined, eyes almost falling out of his head as he watched the drama unfold between the two other males.

Their limbs flew everywhere as Philippe tried to get off of his back, the task proven difficult by the fact that Farrier had settled himself firmly between his legs, an arm pressed to the struggling Frenchman’s chest, his hand shoved between the latter’s legs only for a moment, before the tables turn once again. Having been able to slip a leg past the brunet’s hip, Philippe had dug it sharply into the v of the other’s hips, using Farrier’s pained reaction to flip them, the dark-haired male now on top.

Collins was confused, and needy and neglected and a myriad of other emotions at that moment, but much like any other normal person, he was much too stunned to even think of intervening. He could only watch as Philippe growled at Farrier in guttural French, trying to squish between the latter’s knees. The brunet returning the exchange with a groan, his thick arms- arms that would be put to so much better use holding Collin’s to his chest or pressing him down into the Frenchmen currently being shoved into the mattress again.

Philippe is not at all happy about the shift, and even with his face buried into the sheets, and Farrier’s hand gripping the back of his neck, the room filled with the strained grunts from Farrier, and the angry French yelling from Philippe. Though, not even the high-spirited Frenchman can resist too much once Farrier manages to slip a finger into him, a surprised gasp cutting off his tirade. It’s this that finally pushes Collins over the line, his patience wearing thin at long last.

“Excuse me! If you’re both done with your little pissin’ contest, I’d like to finish getting fucked at some point tonigh’ fuckin’ finish this some other time, fook sake” Collins shouted, snapping both of the men out of their little world, both looking guilty for a moment, which would’ve been funny, if Collins hadn’t been so fucking desperate, his cock a lead weight against his thigh.

A moment later, Farrier and Philippe were untangling from each other, looking apologetic as they resumed their original positions, Collins setting himself heavily onto Philippe’s lap, the green-eyed male groaning at the slide against his stiff erection, the blond glaring as he lined up. His annoyance only lasting until he’s seated completely onto the Frenchman, a relieved sigh slipping from his bitten lips. After that, Farrier obediently presses back in too, the process once again slow and a little pained for a moment, the soft kisses to the back of Collins’ head doing little to ebb the sting.

“Alrigh’ let’s try this again, shall we?” Collins requested, sounding breathless, bending readily at the light press of Farrier’s hand against his shoulders, the blond lowering, his lips joining with Philippe’s for a moment in a heated kiss, his hands knotting into the thick dark curls. They parted with a groan as the brunet started moving his hips again, his pace going from careful to hellbent in a matter of seconds, just the way Collins liked it.

Collins felt Philippe’s hand against his back, fingers splayed over a shoulder blade, nails digging into the soft pale flesh, leaving little scratches with each snap of Farrier’s hips, and he tried his best to suck a mark into the tempting jut of Philippe’s Adam’s apple. However, the task was made near impossible thanks to the fact that every time Farrier or the dark-haired male beneath him hit his sweet spot, he’d be left gasping for air, the ‘mark’ on Philippe’s neck no more than a pale pink smudge. Though Collins didn’t stay too caught up on the letdown, not when the two other males were locked in a tug of war with his body.

What Philippe couldn’t do with thrusting, he made up for with his hand around Collins’ cock, the blond gasping out at the long-neglected length gaining some attention. The green-eyed male’s hand working fast and fastidiously at the member, Collins left a writhing mess against him as he endured the triple assault. At this rate, he wouldn’t last very long at all.

Farrier’s hands were bruising against his shoulder and hip, tugging the blond hard against him on each thrust, Collins laying there and taking it, taking it all, the tug on his cock, the insistent pounding against his p-spot, the two firm sets of hands on his body, sure to leave marks for days. Letting those who got close enough know what he’d done, and how he’d been done (mercilessly and thoroughly).

Collins could feel his climax building long before it had happened, but even so, when it finally struck him, the pressure bursting and coating his and Philippe’s stomachs, he’d been somewhat surprised, his hand pulling tight on the dark strands in his fist and coaxing a pained groan from the owner of said strands. His limbs turned to jelly, and he happily took it all when the two others joined him not a few moments later, the clench proving too much as they fucked into him as they came down, movements stiff and out of rhythm before they finally came to a stop.

Farrier was to first to throw in the towel after that, sliding himself free and collapsing next to Collins and Philippe, an arm tucked behind his head, the blond finding himself unable to look away from the streaks of perspiration trickling down over his taut muscles. He only snapped out of the reverie when Philippe let out a groan, patting him on the side, asking him to hop off, which the blond did, though not without a wince as he slid off the Frenchman, a satisfying ache settling into his lower body.

The bed was barely big enough to fit the three of them, some limbs overlapping and Collins laying half on top of his two partners, pale skin flushed from forehead to sternum, his stomach (much like Philippe’s) covered in spend still, neither male able to get their limbs to move enough to clean it up yet. He could feel something trickling down the back of his thighs, and he couldn’t help the grimace that appeared on his face at the sensation, the blond promising to shower as soon as he fully came down.

“See? Told yeh there’s enough of me to go ‘round” Collins breathed, voice slightly uneven and gritty, the soft sound quickly drowned out by the disagreeing grumbles from the male’s either side of him, the Scotsman rolling his eyes “pair o’ righ’ nyaffs you two are.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](https://hardleeharlee.tumblr.com/)


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